It Never Rains........

I took Henry to the vet's yesterday because he has.........a lump.

My three-legged mate has had this lump virtually ever since we first teamed up together about seven years ago but it always used to be fairly small, soft and pliable.

That led all who checked him over to conclude that it was just harmless, fatty tissue but over the last fortnight said lump has grown considerably, become hard and now resembles a submerged golf ball. The vet took one look at it yesterday, noted the change and said Hen would have to have it cut out.

As a result, the little man and I are going back to the vet's this morning to check him in for the operation. Once the nastiness is carved out it will be sent away for tests and we will see where we go from there.

It could just be benign. It could be some kind of blocked duct. Then again, it could be.....................No! Best not to even think about it. Having lost my beloved Padfoot in February to the Big C I dare not ponder what might be in store.

So, fingers and paws crossed everyone. I'll keep you posted.

Padfoot - The Bad News

Padfoot is back from hospital in Liverpool and once again recovering from the cutting, prodding and probing of the medical fraternity.
The upshot of his extended stay at the university's Small Animal Hospital is the vets have confirmed that he DOES have cancer and he has been given about six months to live.

A CT scan, X-rays and blood tests revealed all organs were working fine, there were no obvious tumours and at one point it looked as if he might even be given the all clear. However, the wall of one lung was slightly thickened and they found a mass of fluid in his chest cavity so took samples.
The biopsies had to be sent down to Cambridge for analysis and the results returned on Thursday evening and revealed that he has a virulent cancer in his lungs. Anyway, they drained the fluid in his chest and removed about a pint! They told me, however, that is not unusual for a dog of his size as they can often find about four pints!


I went to collect Pad on Friday afternoon - enduring an horrendous storm, torrential rain, a five-hour round trip, one of the worst drives I can ever recall and two near-accidents. I took Henry (the three-leggged leader of the pack) with me for company and he and the boy seemed indifferent about being reunited - dogs are funny creatures.

Pad is now home again and slowly reacclimatising to The Towers. The procedures have knocked him about a bit, obviously, and he is drinking voraciously again, has a throaty cough and is very sluggish and out of sorts. However, having witnessed his recovery from his operation about a month ago, I put this all down to what he underwent at the hospital. The cough and thirst are, I'm sure, caused by the tubes shoved down his throat and his demeanour and lack of energy are down to the trauma. I am certain he will be back to his old self in about a week as he has already begun to get his appetite back.

Looking on the bright side, he no longer has that awful muck in his chest and so can breathe easier. Also, he has been given an anti-inflammatory which is easing the degeneration in his back legs. Combined, these two things mean that he is in a better state than before I took him to hospital and so, apart from definitively revealing what is wrong with him, it was well worth his five days away - and the bill of £3,700!!

One thing which is depressing him a tad is that, once again, they shaved his fur to carry out the procedures. They cut a big circle in each of his flanks and the result is that he looks like a bloody poodle!! - pretty embarrassing for a street-wise alsatian with credibility to maintain. Still, like before, his fur will grow back soon.








Today he is going to have a huge shoulder of beef all to himself as a treat. He also has two new beds (one in the lounge and one in the kitchen), a new, soft toy to play with and boxes and boxes of chews and treats.
I am determined that his remaining time with me is going to be as happy and comfortable as possible and no expense will be spared.
He's where he wants to be and he's not in any pain.

I'm sure you can imagine that this is pretty tough to write about and so I am not going to post about him for quite a while - his ups and downs will be between me, Mrs P and him. I will, however, document the very end for those who have been so kind as to ask about him. Rest assured, he is currently one of the happiest, safest, most comfortable and loved creatures on the planet.

The Cold and the Beautiful

At my feet, fighting the chill, as he has been for a large part of the night.



I'm exhausted - AGAIN!!!
We've had another rough night round here at the Towers and Padfoot and I have hardly slept a wink.
I have been downstairs in the lounge with the boy all the time and sleep does not come easily to him these days, hence not to me either.
The latest problem is the biting winter cold. Pad has lost so much weight and his system is so weak having to battle the cancer in his chest all the time that he feels the chills terribly. Don't get me wrong, the Towers are as warm as toast - too warm for my liking. I was brought up by a clinically insane woman who insisted on having the windows in the house open all year round and she refused to put on the central heating because, and I quote, "it runs up the bills"!
By contrast, the heating is on full blast here all the time - God knows what the winter quarter bill is going to be - but Pad has to go out from time to time to chat to the birds and do what has to be done. The result is that when he comes back inside his teeth chatter uncontrollably and he shivers incessantly. It has been taking him a good hour to warm up and so I have taken to throwing a bedspread around him the moment he steps in from the cold. It warms him up a bit quicker but he then finds it difficult to get back to the Land of Nod. Invariably, no sooner has he started pushing out the Zs than the call of nature wakes him up again and he wants to go back outside and off we go again.
The latest on his condition is that the final biopsy results came through last Thursday and they confirmed that his spleen, stomach and liver are clear but the mass in his chest is malignant. It is making him cough quite a lot and he is still losing weight, although not as dramatically as before.

Pad is never alone - nurse Tilly in particular pops in to check on him constantly.


Sleep at last!!

He is still not in any pain (I CAN tell) although his quality of life is not brilliant - but it is more than bearable - and he is eating well. Sadly, he is also drinking a lot and that leads to the problems outlined above (when I return from work in the week, the first job is the hour-long clean up!!)
There is little that can be done for him but, as a last resort, the vet, the lovely Sally, has referred him up to the specialist veterinary hospital at Liverpool University and so he and I will take a trip up there on January 7. As Sally so quite rightly said, "they probably won't be able to do anything for him but you've got nothing to lose".
Anyway, in the meantime, the sleepless nights will no doubt continue and while I long for my bed I will be staying by his side from now on.
Nothing for Grantham - except, perhaps, the cold.

More Padfoot (Sorry)

The news I was expecting about my beautiful boy Padfoot came yesterday.
The vet phoned to say that the preliminary biopsy results had come through and they showed he had a virulent cancer in his chest cavity. The cancer is advanced and, having re-examined the scans and consulted the senior surgeon, the vet said the tumour was too close to his heart and lungs to be operable - the risk of severing a major blood vessel was just too great and it would be almost impossible to tie off others after the knife had done its work.
Sally, for she is the vet, is now awaiting the detailed biopsy results so that we can decide how to proceed. Basically, there are two options. He can start chemotherapy or we can just leave nature to take its course. Again, I think I know what the decision will be. I have witnessed chemotherapy first hand - not only does it hardly ever work in advanced cases, it makes the poor patient so incredibly sick and unhappy during the treatment.
So, there we are. Pad and I are back to where we were a couple of months ago.

It never rains, only pours, so they say, and true to form there was another mini crisis just hours after Sally phoned through with the news. It was tipping it down outside and it was dark when I let the dogs out into the garden to do the things they have to do and brave Pad, bless him, managed to haul himself to his feet and follow them. I left them all to their business and 15 minutes later called them back inside. I had counted them out but when I counted them in again there was no Pad. I called and I called and I called and I suspected he must have been at the far end of the garden, behind the trees, so I went out in search of him with a torch. It was then that I heard a whimper and the sound of splashing in water. I turned and shone the torch on the pond to find Pad had fallen in the deep end - more than 3ft - and was struggling to keep his head above the water.
I ran to him and managed to haul him out, over wires around the edge designed to keep the heron at bay, and carried him inside absolutely drenched to the skin. He immediately went into shock and, coupled with his soaking, began to shiver violently and his teeth wouldn't stop chattering.
The very-soon-to-be ex-Mrs Pither and I then began a frantic rescue operation, towelling him down as quickly as we could while blasting him with her hair dryer. We put the central heating on full and carried him into the lounge to put him on his temporary bed there but still he couldn't get warm. So, despite the house being like a furnace, I lit the fire in the grate. Eventually, the shivering and the teeth chattering subsided, the shock faded and he dried out and began to get warm. Just then, the next door neighbour came round to say that there must be a crack in our grate or chimney flue as smoke from our fire was billowing into his lounge next door!!!! What a great night!


Drying out in front of the fire - ever had one of those days?


Anyway, when the fire turned slightly more smokeless the alarm next door eased and Pad and I were left to cuddle on his bed - where I awoke at 5am, just in time to go to work! To say it has been a tough week is an understatement. Still, WE'RE still here! Pad is comfortable, he still does not appear to be in any pain, although his cough is troubling him and he is drinking excessively, and he is eating well. Life goes on and, as I have had said before, Pad is going to be warm, cosy, well fed and loved a great deal in whatever time we have left.

Thanks to everyone for the kinds words and inquiries about my boy - and I'm sorry to bang on about him all the time but it is important to me and is all I can think about these days. I am less than active replying to all your comments, I know, but rest assured I read and appreciate everything said. X

Padwatch 3.

For those of you kind enough to ask after my beautiful boy, Padfoot, the news is not good, I'm afraid.
I am taking him to the vet's tomorrow when I will ask for a biopsy - but I am almost certain I know what the result will be.
Pad is continuing to lose weight alarmingly and he is getting weaker by the day. He has that dry, rasping cough which, in my experience, always accompanies cancer when it's grip begins to turn into a stranglehold. He also shivers at the slightest hint of a draft when all he ever used to do was pant at the slightest hint of sunshine. Finally, he has a raging thirst.
You don't need seven years' training at veterinary college to work out what is wrong - just look at his eyes!!!!! It is an awful, awful, awful disease. I had to watch my father-in-law die from it and it claimed the lives of all three dogs in my previous pack. The dogs were lucky - they were put to sleep when the pain became too much.
Pad, I am sure, is not in much pain at the moment. He still has his appetite and he is still able to move about by himself, in fact I took him for a little walk yesterday and while we could not go far I think he enjoyed being able to smell the grass, the trees and the calling cards of his pals. He is warm, I ferry the water bowl to him whenever he looks up at me to ask and I have taken to sleeping downstairs on the sofa with him so he is not lonely and I am there for him when he yelps out or wants a drink.
I am going to make sure he has the best it is possible to have until the time comes when he hurts too much. Then, the vet will come out to him and, like my other dogs, I will be there to hold him while he goes to sleep. I will then bury him alongside the other boys and girls in my garden and flowers will grow where he lies.
The first five years of his life must have been Hell on earth but, when he fell through the ice of a frozen canal and was on the verge of drowning, little did he know how special life was going to be from the moment he was dragged exhausted from the water by firemen.
He has had five fantastic years with me and I will miss him more than I can possibly put into words. God bless him.

Padwatch 2.

I was going to post today about the lunacy which is the Common Agricultural Policy and the Thatcherite moves by our beloved, so-called Labour Government to block attempts by the EU to stop the current practice of giving the richest landowners in the country, including that parasitic bint at Buck House, annual, six-figure handouts from Brussels for doing fuck all with their acres!
I also toyed with the idea of ranting about those fucking Nazis at Coca Cola, following Mark Thomas's excellent documentary on the company last night.
Then I got deeply annoyed for a moment about the money-grabbing bastards who manage Amy Winehouse and are still shoving her on stage like some form of performing fucking monkey (or gilt-egg-laying goose) when the poor lass is an emotional, drug and booze-addled wreck with enough on her plate, including the plight of her husband, without having to dance to the tune of her puppeteer masters.
Finally, I thought I would try to be funny - there's always a first time - about something bizarre or offbeat in the news or my life...............but you really do have to be in the mood. The truth is, despite still drawing a blank in the job market and now being almost bankrupt, only one thing matters to me in life at this moment.

I am still nursing my beautiful dog Pad round the clock because he is in a bad way and his condition is beginning to really get me down.
I decided to try to do something positive and so today we actually left the house and went for a walk - well, a sort of stagger, really, but at least it was out!
We left the rest of the pack behind to spend some quality time together, just us two, and I think it bucked up Pad's spirits a bit.
We trundled around, we played hide and seek, we played football - a bit one-sided, it has to be said - and we said hello to all the birds. Then, when we came home, Pad had an orange (his second favourite thing in the world) and a carrot (his favourite thing in the world) and settled down for a nap before his tea.
It's back to the vet's on Thursday for a few more tests. He is losing weight dreadfully, in addition to his leg problems, and I have witnessed that decline before. I am pinning all my hopes on it not being cancer. I lost three dogs to that fucking illness 10 years ago!








Still, he's eating as normal and his conjunctivitis is clearing up and so it's not the end....it just feels like it.
Nothing for Grantham.